The bell rang, and I looked up to see someone bundled up in her coat and scarf walk in and head straight toward one of the customers, so I got back to work.
Sally was the first one to notice Jack.
“Rose.”
I looked at her over my shoulder.
“Yes?”
“He’s here,” she whispered urgently, and I looked around in confusion until my eyes landed on him. My pulse picked up and my heart started to get all excited, but something was wrong. I couldn’t tell what he was thinking from his facial expression, because if there was one thing Jack Hawthorne was good at, it was hiding his emotions. Dread and excitement over seeing him settled over me anyway as my heart betrayed me.
He stood on the other side of the counter and I did nothing but stare at him, my heart pounding in my ears.
I heard Sally clear her throat. “Hi, Jack.”
He didn’t take his eyes off me when he answered. “Hello, Sally. You’re good, I hope.”
“Yes. Great.”
Then it was back to silence again.
Feeling my chest tighten, I swallowed and wiped my hands on my jeans, managing to look away from his eyes.
I saw his hand tighten around a stack of papers he was holding, creating a tube.
“Uh, Owen did you take the—” I started in a low, rough voice, but Jack cut me off before I could finish my sentence.
“If I could talk to you in private, Rose?”
I looked back up at him, trying my best not to show that I had forgotten how to breathe like a normal person in the last minute or so. I cleared my throat and nodded.
“Kitchen?”
I nodded again and watched as he moved around the counter and walked straight back there. Sally bumped her shoulder into mine and smiled when I gave her a startled look.
“You miss him. Be nice. I think you’ve made him suffer long enough. You suffered enough as well.”
I didn’t respond, just turned to Owen. “I’ll, uh, I’ll be back in a minute. If you could just—”
“I have plenty of things to do out here. Go make up or whatever so we can breathe easy again.”
I hit him on the shoulder as I walked past him into the kitchen. I only had enough time to take a deep breath before I was standing across from Jack again, this time with the island between us. I took in his dark grey suit, crisp white shirt, and black tie. He was made to wear suits and break my heart.
I reached for a kitchen towel just to have something in my hands and looked away. While I was busy trying to find the right words to apologize for what I had said at his office, Jack spoke up.
“You can’t even look at me, can you?”
Startled by his words, I met his gaze. Was that what he thought?
“Jack, I—”
“It doesn’t matter now,” he continued. “I came to give you this in person.” He unrolled the file in his hands and put it on the island, right next to the triple chocolate brownies, then pushed it my way.
My eyes still on him, I reached for it.
“What is this?” My voice came out like a whisper.
When he didn’t answer, I looked down and turned the first page.
Shocked by what I was reading, my eyes flew up to his.
“Divorce papers,” he said calmly.
I was anything but calm. My mind in overdrive, my eyes tried to follow the words and sentences, but it was all a jumbled mess in front of me.
“You want a divorce?” I croaked out, the papers slightly trembling. I tightened my grip to hide it from his eyes.
“Yes. It’s the right thing…for you.”
My brows drew together and some heat started to come back to my limbs. I forced myself to drop the papers on the island and take a step back as if they would come alive and bite my fingers off.
This time I met his gaze straight on, the dread and excitement turning into anger. “For me. How about you? What do you get out of it?”
He tilted his head to the side, his eyes slightly narrowing in a calculating manner. “It’s the right thing for me too.”
A little dazed, I nodded. Barely able to speak through the tightness in my throat, I said, “I see.” Impressive word choices, I know.
I was so out of it that I didn’t even notice him taking out a pen from his suit jacket and offering it to me.
I stared at him as if he had sprouted another head.
“You want me to sign it…now.”
It wasn’t a question, but he treated it as such.
“Yes. I’d like to get it done right now.”
“You’d like to get it done right now,” I echoed.
“Preferably.”
That word—that one annoying word pushed me over the edge of worry and guilt into anger.
Preferably.
I decided right then and there that it was the most ridiculous and annoying word in the world. I didn’t touch the pen. I didn’t pick up the papers.